Flashbacks and Fantasies
by Lilyx1021
Summary: Continuation of the second flashback of 1x17 Covenants. "I will do anything to help you..."
1. Chapter 1

She leaned forward, brushing her palm across his scruff and running her thumb lightly over his cheekbone. "I will do _anything_ to help you."

Unconsciously, he leaned into her hand, breathing a tiny sigh at the loving contact with her silky skin. His eyes met hers as he heard the sincerity in her voice, the spark between them somehow flaring even brighter.

"Thank you," he whispered back fervently. She said nothing, but her doe eyes spoke volumes. Unable to respond to the sudden rush of empathy on her face, Michael stared down at the gold comforter and began to finger several stray threads. After several moments, he cleared his throat awkwardly and clambered off the bed.

"Percy's orders are that we leave tomorrow at 4. You should get some sleep; it's going to be a long flight. I'll take the couch tonight."

He walked out of the bedroom and shut the door softly behind him. Nikita fell back against the numerous pillows, letting out a gusty sigh. She was unsure of how to cope with Michael's sudden revelation.

Michael with a family? The thought was nearly impossible. Yet, as she continued to think, the concept became decidedly less alien. She could clearly picture a youthful Michael; face unlined, scruff and five o'clock shadow gone. Kissing a young blonde woman while his five year old daughter wrinkled her adorable button nose in fake disgust. Taking strolls in front of their white-picket fence house, while their yapping German Shepherd jogged along happily beside them. Clumsily trying to braid his daughter's unruly caramel hair while his wife was doubled over in hysterical laughter. Though Nikita had never been able to experience any of those things, her heart ached for Michael and the phantom family that she had created in her mind.

Before she could pull herself back to reality, her mind wandered even further, slotting herself into Elizabeth's place. Waking up every morning with Michael by her side. Kissing him and her own daughter good morning. Munching on toast that popped out of their new, state-of-the-art stainless steel toaster and drinking coffee that was sprinkled with cinnamon. Her feet resting in his lap while he perused the morning paper.

Abruptly, she was slapped back into reality by the sound of Michael barging through the door, balancing several threadbare blankets in his arms that obscured his face from view. Closing the door with his foot, he tottered over to the couch in front of the fireplace. He tossed the blankets onto the sofa and began arranging them carefully into a suitable makeshift bed.

"Something wrong?" he asked her casually, not glancing up from his own handiwork.

"Nothing," she replied swiftly, rolling off the bed and shoving her fairy tale out of her mind. Turning away, she faced the oak dresser and began removing the diamonds that were clustered on her ears and fingers. She watched her reflection in the bronze mirror sitting on top of the dresser, smugly noting that her lipstick was still perfect even after her passionate, though brief encounter with Michael. He glanced up at her, slightly mesmerized by the grace of her slender hands as she let the jewelry clink onto the polished wood. His throat became abnormally tight, breath sticking uncomfortably when Nikita reached up and slid the zipper of her dress down, exposing a long column of toned flesh. Suddenly, Michael wished his hand was pulling that zipper down, brushing the lacy cap sleeves off her shoulders, dusting fairy kisses up her neck…

The dress crumpled to the ground and she tossed it over a nearby armchair. Looking back up at the mirror, she saw Michael's intense gaze drilling into her back. She felt the blush creep up her throat and stain her cheeks but somehow, she couldn't look away.

"Something wrong?" she teased lightly.

"_Something wrong?" _

_Nikita smiled at him roguishly, her lips curling up into a sly smile. Michael stood there, mouth slightly hanging open, hand still lightly clutching the doorknob. _

_Giggling lightly to herself, she slid another crystal hairpin into place. She honestly couldn't blame him—every red-blooded male she had ever encountered stared at her that way. But when it came to Michael, somehow it didn't disgust her as much—actually it didn't faze her at all. She relished the way he looked at her, the way his green eyes hardened into emeralds whenever she walked into the room. _

_Staring at her reflection in the hotel bathroom's enormous mirror, she swiveled back and forth, admiring the way the rich scarlet fabric flowed around her body. The thigh slit was a bit much, as was the single strap serving as the entire back of her dress. She fervently hoped that tonight's forecast wouldn't predict any wind. If a light gust happened by, the many Congressmen of New York and their wives would certainly be in for a show. A show that would no doubt please the men to no end and cause the women to gasp in outright jealousy. _

_After several awkward seconds, Michael finally spoke. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her, but his husky voice sounded a tad bit strained. "The party's in thirty minutes, you wouldn't want to keep Percy waiting in the ballroom." _

_She rolled her eyes, before pinning up the last curl dangling next to her ear. "Anything to keep the old man happy." _

"_Nikita, this gala is only twelve floors down, exactly one minute and forty seconds away from your room. How can you possibly be late?" _

"_It's Amanda's fault. Cause she gave me a ribbon to wear instead of an actual dress." She fidgeted with the scarlet cloth's plunging neckline and tried to tug the skirt lower to cover her exposed leg. "Do all Division agents really dress like hookers waiting for their next customer?" _

_He smiled sadly at her concerned expression and wisely chose to not answer her question. _

_She applied the finishing touches to her stellar makeup and slid on a pair of enormously high silver stilettos. Starting for the door, Nikita felt his hand curl around her arm, effectively stopping her in her tracks. She turned towards him, an exasperated expression plastered on her face. _

"_Michael, don't worry, I'll be fine. I've been an agent for three months already. You don't have to give me the 'be careful' lecture. I'm only plying the escort trade tonight. Nothing life threatening." _

_He shook his head, chuckling softly. "I know, but it's your first time being Percy's…partner for the evening. You should be careful; there are plenty of powerful, dangerous people gathered in that room tonight. But more importantly, you forgot something." _

_She gave him a questioning glance, noting that his hand had disappeared behind his back. Stalking closer to him, she smiled sensuously. "Did I?" _

_His hand appeared as she crept towards him, holding a thick cardboard box. Pushing it into Nikita's hands, he smirked at her skeptical expression. "It's not a bomb. Open it." _

_Pulling off the lid, her wondering eyes were greeted by a glimmering Zoraki 914 pistol sitting proudly in a thigh holster. She slid the gun out of its casing, running her fingers lovingly over its satin chrome finish._

"_It's perfect," she said, eyes alight with pure enchantment, "I didn't know thigh holsters were part of female agent protocol." _

"_Well, it is now." _

_Grinning at him, she seated herself fluidly and crossed her legs. Dangling the thigh holster between her thumb and index finger, she gestured towards her exposed thigh. "Would you mind?" _

_She watched Michael's eyes and lips tighten briefly before he acquiesced to her request and stooped down. Taking the holster from her hands, he buckled the straps loosely around her ankle and began to slowly tug the silky black leather north. He took his time, knowing very well that Nikita would not object. After passing her knee, he tightened the straps carefully and allowed his hands to—regretfully—fall away. _

_Straightening up, he extended a hand to her. "You should hurry and get downstairs, you're late." _

_She smirked at him. "And whose fault is that?" _

_He took her arm and tugged her out of the room towards the three sets of elevators waiting for her. He pressed the gold button for the lobby, before turning and giving his agent another once-over. _

_Slyly noting his examination, she bumped him lightly on the shoulder with her own. _

"_Something still wrong?" _

_He took a final look at her as the elevator dinged happily. Her chocolate brown eyes sparkled at him and he felt his insides turn to liquid. He knew it, knew that he was already in way over his head. The stupid, giddy grin stretched on his face was no small indication for it was common knowledge that Michael never smiled. _

"_Nothing." _

"Nothing."

He shook himself quickly, and then flopped onto the couch, burying himself under his blankets.

Taking one last lingering look at Michael's weary expression, Nikita walked into the bathroom and shut it softly behind her. The boiling water from the power shower blasted and scalded her skin, but it couldn't stop her mind from drifting away again. She fantasized as much as she could until the water's lash became outright painful. Emerging in an oversized gray recruit t-shirt, she meandered over to the couch and knelt down on the freezing ground next to Michael's head. She tenderly ran her fingers over the crease between his eyebrows, gently smoothing it out. Dropping a light kiss against his cheek, she stood up and headed towards her own bed. She dove under the gold comforter and shivered at the sudden contact with the icy sheets. Wrapping an arm around a pillow, she hugged it to her chest before slowly drifting off into a fitful sleep.

Suddenly, a piercing white light illuminated their bedroom, except for the fact that she wasn't there anymore. Blinking her bleary eyes, Nikita eyed the oddly familiar vast concrete room. Several buzzing lights hung over her, illuminating her tiny frame in the midst of the vast darkness. She tried to raise an arm to rub the sleep out of her eyes, but found that she was strapped tightly to a chair, her arms and legs bound firmly to its steel arms and legs by plastic cuffs. With frantic eyes, she noted that two pulsing electrodes were attached to her temples, collarbones, and wrists. The wires trailed to a machine that looked all too familiar. Electric shock. And lying next to it, were several very familiar torture instruments. It was like being in Jigsaw's workshop. Letting out an involuntary whimper, she wriggled uselessly against her bonds, knowing the telltale signs well enough.

She was in Amanda's personal dungeon, preparing to be questioned, tortured, and quite possibly, canceled. Sure enough, a door swung open and the she-devil herself marched in. Sauntering slowly up to the metal chair, she leaned down languidly, slowly taking in Nikita's tensed stance.

"Oh, Nikita. I knew that you'd take the bait." She leaned in, patting Nikita's cheek tenderly. Confused, Nikita thrashed again, snarling a steady and very creative stream of swear words. Amanda smiled cruelly before continuing in her sickly sweet voice. "But it's not really your fault. Michael is just the most _exceptional_ liar."

Nikita froze at Amanda's last word, her mind coming to a sudden blinding, crashing halt.

"_What_?" she gasped, her shield against Division's head interrogator faltering.

Amanda's blood red lips curled up into a devious grin and she gestured towards the door. It swung open once more, except this time, in walked Michael, dressed in his customary suit and stoic as par Division standard. His polished shoes echoed in the enormous room, coming to a steady halt right in front of Nikita. She stared at him wildly, her eyes screaming the questions she so desperately wanted to ask. Her lips trembled as she scanned his strangely deadened eyes, steely and cold, like a shark. She didn't know how or why, but Michael was gone. The Michael that she knew so well, the sparkle in his eyes that twinkled comfortingly at her whenever she was being scolded by Percy, the trademark smirk that appeared whenever they sparred, the calloused hands that guided her through every move, the perfect lips that she had only kissed once, everything that was distinctly _Michael_, was somehow missing. Her Michael had disappeared.

Hell, who was she kidding? He had never belonged to her. He belonged to that evil, sadistic son of a bitch who was probably watching this sick encounter in his office, cackling delightfully.

"Why?" she whispered softly, barely able to control the tension radiating throughout her body, causing her curled fists to tremble violently. Michael's face barely registered the fact that she had spoken. His indifferent demeanor infuriated her and she lost her remaining shred of self-control.

"_Why?_" she screamed, louder and shriller, allowing the anger from every pore in her body to flow out through her voice. She had trusted him, teased him, let him in on her secrets, _loved_ him. She could feel the cords and veins in her throat straining against her heated skin as hot, angry tears of betrayal rolled down her cheeks. Michael turned away from Nikita's burning glare and glanced at Amanda, as though asking for advice.

She cut smoothly in, smiling wolfishly. "Percy wanted to know where your true loyalties lay. Michael just happened to be the _perfect_ bait. _'I would do anything to help you' _", she mocked, drawing fake quotation marks in the air, "Such strong words. Who would have known that you were just _so_ in love with him…"

A strangled snarl tore through her throat and Nikita silently cursed her stupid, volatile emotions. After several tense minutes only permeated by the sound of Amanda adjusting several wires, Michael finally opened his mouth and Nikita prayed that the next few words would somehow relieve the gaping, gnawing hole in her stomach.

"I was only following orders."

It didn't. She flinched at his voice, cold and clipped, unmoved at his supposed favorite student's desperate plight. Following orders. The one thing that she rarely did and the only thing that he always clung to.

Closing her eyes, she breathed in slowly, allowing the numbing air to seep into her lungs. Suddenly cold, she gradually relaxed against the steel chair, resigned to her condemned fate. If she didn't have Michael in her life, if their entire relationship was just based on a lie, well then, there really was nothing else for her to live for. The fighting spirit within her slowly melted away, leaving behind only a beaten body and crushed heart.

Circling the table, Amanda plucked a tiny remote from it and pressed it into Michael's hand. She nodded encouragingly, still grinning the entire time. "Why don't we get started? Go on."

Michael faced Nikita, not a single emotion displayed on his face. He slowly raised his eyes to hers for the first time since he had entered. She thought she saw a flicker of remorse dart across his face, before it disappeared as quickly as it came. His thumb pressed the button and her screams ripped through the large chamber.

In the middle of the night, a frozen Michael awoke to the sound of a tiny kitten-like whimper. Sitting up and kneading his eyes, he saw the dim outline of Nikita curled up under the thick covers in a little ball. He was about to lie back down before she let out a louder cry and rolled over, fists grabbing and lashing out at nothing. She continued to thrash and her cries became increasingly shrill and panicked. Crawling out from underneath the teetering pile of blankets, Michael picked his way across the frigid carpet until he was by her side. He reached out and latched onto her flailing wrists, pulling her onto his lap. She wriggled desperately against his hold, still frantic, while taking frenzied gasps of air. Gently pulling her against his chest, he rocked her body back and forth, while murmuring soothing nothings into her ear. Her whimpers gradually quieted and she turned her head toward his neck, her lips resting softly against the comforting beat of his pulse. Both of her arms slid involuntarily up his chest and tightened around his neck. Easing her back onto the mattress, he smiled gently at the adorable little furrow between her eyebrows, before undoing her clasped arms and brushing a wayward lock of satin hair behind her ear. He shifted his weight to stand up, but before his feet could find purchase on the freezing ground, an iron grip suddenly latched onto his arm.

"Stay."

The word was slightly slurred and clouded by sleep, but clear enough to him. Nikita blinked groggily several times before renewing her attack on his already severely weakened self control. Maybe it was his revelation to Nikita that made him feel compelled to draw himself even closer to her; for he felt that the need to bury his sorrows away would be much easier while he held her in his arms. She and her warmth were calling out to him and he felt his resolve begin to crumble even further. Rolling herself back onto his lap, Nikita laid a hand tenderly on his chest.

"Michael, please stay with me." She reached up, placing one hand onto his cheek, and gently slid it down to the scruff on his chin, pinching it lightly. He stared down at her face, slightly illuminated by the silvery glow of the moon. Her eyes were still glimmering with fresh tears and her lips were quivering slightly. Those enormous, dark eyes of hers were liquid chocolate depths and he felt himself being sucked in. Pulling back the covers, he slid into the bed, running his freezing toes lightly over Nikita's toasty ones. As soon as he was comfortably situated, she curled her body into his, her head resting on his outstretched bicep and her arms finding their way around his chest. He pressed his nose into her hair, breathing in the soothing scent of jasmine and honeysuckle. An arm, of its own accord, snaked around her waist, molding her body to his side. The warmth of her body heat washed over him and he closed his eyes with a contented sigh.

They drifted off to sleep together, Nikita's nightmare swiftly passing, and Michael's body heat steadily returning.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I'm so sorry, I completely forgot to put in an author's note for the first chapter. But to answer the lovely Miami Blackheart, Tigerlily02, and sokiew 's questions, this is in fact not a one-shot. I have a couple of strange ideas bouncing around in my head and I'm going to try and flush them out here. Anyways, this doesn't exactly follow the show. It contains some elements that are relevant but I'm just writing in stuff as I go. Hopefully, it'll turn out better than I'm expecting it to. But please read and review! Tell me what you think! :)**

Michael awoke the next morning to the disgustingly cheerful ring of his phone. He groaned and turned his head, burying it in the mounds of black silk draped haphazardly over his pillow. The slender arms looped around his neck tightened slightly and the warm body wrapped around his own shifted even closer. They both relaxed when the phone's buzzing slowly died away, leaving the room blissfully silent.

Michael sighed contentedly into Nikita's hair; breathing in an intoxicating scent that he knew was distinctly hers. Oh, this was _wrong_. Michael knew it. Having his own agent wrapped around him like a bow on a Christmas present certainly was not the best situation for him to be caught in. Yet he couldn't imagine a better situation that did _not_ involve being in Nikita's arms.

The phone chirped again and Michael groaned petulantly into the pillow. Nikita sighed softly, her breath lightly caressing his cheek.

"You should probably get that, it could be important."

"No."

She frowned, one eyebrow slightly cocked. "Why?"

"It's cold out there."

Rolling her eyes, she poked him in the ribs. "You're the golden boy of the Ice King and Queen. You should be used to icy stares and the cold shoulder. Besides, you spend half of your time in Percy's icebox of an office."

Clambering over his chest and purposely kneeing him lightly in the stomach, she reached for the phone sitting on the table. Michael moaned and rolled over, grumbling into his pillow while massaging the newly forming bruise on his abdomen.

She smirked slightly, before pressing the answer button and lightly slapping it onto Michael's ear.

"This is Michael," he grumbled sullenly into the phone.

"Mikey?" A garbled, very familiar voice came through the earpiece and Michael's lips twitched slightly in annoyance.

"What do you want, Birkhoff?"

"Sorry to interrupt your little bedroom romp with Nikki, but—" Birkhoff was interrupted by the sound of someone choking over the phone.

"Excuse me?" Michael spluttered and sat up, causing Nikita to glance over, eyebrows slightly raised. She slipped out of the bed and proceeded to slip on a pair of leggings and a blank tank top. Michael swallowed when she tugged off her shirt, exposing her toned abdomen. He was snapped out of his sudden fantasizing by Birkhoff's voice babbling happily into the phone.

"Well, your trackers indicate that you two are in the same room, in the same bed. And judging by the hormones that usually erupt the moment you guys look at each other, it can only indicate that _something_ happened last night. Oh, and the fact that you practically fell on your knees and begged Ole Daddy to let you ditch your precious recruits for two days and go to Russia. I wonder if Amanda bugged the room, God only knows how interesting _that _would have been…"

"Birkhoff, shut up, 'cause I honestly don't give a damn. Just get to the point," Michael growled and received a sharp smack on the shoulder and a disapproving look from Nikita. He knew that she disliked his less-than-stellar treatment of her Nerd.

"Okay, okay. The Dragon Mistress wants you and Nikki back at the home base. Pronto. Apparently something big came up."

"Amanda? Fine, then when should we leave?"

"Yesterday."

"Birkhoff," Michael snarled. "I swear, I'll—"

"Okay, okay. It's going to be on Aerosvit Airlines," Birkhoff paused, the sound of clicking keys filled the earpiece, "Flight leaves in under two hours. First class, Michael Berkeley and Nikita Clarke."

"Fine, we'll vacate the house in under one."

"A thank you would be nice," Birkhoff sing-songed.

"Uh-huh, flying pigs and Percy handing out yearly bonuses would be nice too," Michael replied back smartly, before tossing the phone onto the bed.

He heard Nikita rummaging in the bathroom and she appeared with her bag of toiletries and lobbed them neatly into her open suitcase. She flipped the lid of the case down with her foot and bent down to zip it shut. Finally meeting Michael's steady gaze, she hopped off the carpet and slid onto the bed next to him.

"We're leaving?"

He nodded, a small grin playing around his lips. "Yeah, we're headed home."

"Home," she repeated slowly, a wistful look in her eye.

"_Home." _

_Michael gestured through the door, waving a thoroughly flabbergasted Nikita into the apartment. _

"_My home?" she tentatively asked, almost too afraid to think that this amazing place could be hers._

"_Yes, it's all yours." _

_Her bright, wandering eyes were greeted by enormous panes of glass, showcasing the glimmering lights of the Manhattan skyline. She ran to the windows, pressing a hand tenderly against the cool glass and admiring the awe-inspiring view. _

"_It's beautiful." _

_Michael leaned casually against the kitchen's marble counter and smiled at her childish excitement. The sun lit her dark hair and illuminated her face, causing her eyes to sparkle even more dazzlingly. He was definitely inclined to agree with her statement._

"_It certainly is. It really pays to be an agent, though the rent on this apartment may have caused some of Percy's grey hairs to become a tad whiter." _

"_Oh please, the man is loaded. Every time I'm in his office, he has a different Rolex on. They're like 'days of the week' watches." _

_Leaving Michael chuckling to himself, she walked slowly through the apartment, lightly brushing her hand against everything, trying to convince herself that this was all real. She took her time testing out everything, flopping onto the white leather couch and running her feet delicately over the shag carpet under her glass coffee table. _

_Sauntering into her bedroom, she tore open the closet door, barely containing her girlish squeal of excitement. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Michael, who was now propped against the bedroom door frame, a wry grin sitting on his lips. _

"_I am amazed to hear that kind of a sound coming out of your mouth." _

"_Not really, I _am_ a girl. Girls like clothes." _

"_And Amanda enjoys spoiling you a bit too much." _

_She nodded, still a bit mesmerized by the vastly expensive collection of clothing that Amanda had managed to stuff into a relatively small space. Michael moved next to her and pointed at three wooden drawers that had been installed inside the closet. _

"_Another surprise?" she asked, eyebrows slightly quirked. _

"_Division protocol for all our agents," he replied, a smirk forming on his lips. "You'll see."_

_Pulling open a drawer, she found a metal tray of tiny pistols, each sparkling in its steel casing. Another drawer contained several hunting knives, the dark black steel of each blade contrasting the warm walnut drawer it sat in. He reached forward and plucked one out of its thick foam casing._

"_They're manufactured by Division and even above military standard. You could break bones with the blade and perform surgery with it. If anyone surprises you in your apartment, use this." _

_He waved it in front of her nose, before sliding it back into place. _

_She grinned. "I hope _you_ show up unannounced one day. _That_ would certainly be interesting." _

_The last drawer's contents caused Nikita to slam it shut before Michael had a proper look. Bright red had erupted onto her cheeks and she suddenly looked slightly feverish. His questioning eyes fell towards a corner of the drawer, where a tiny scrap of lace was still slightly protruding. _

"_Oh," he said, the tips of his ears slowly turning pink. Although he was fairly certain that Amanda had a hand in this, he also knew that the last drawer was most definitely _not_ part of Division protocol. _

_Clearing his throat, he grabbed Nikita's hand and towed her away from her closet. He stopped at her front door and dropped her hand rather awkwardly, before retrieving a zipped leather case. Setting it onto the counter, he opened the cover to reveal a thick manila envelope. _

"_ID pack. Contains everything that you'll need. Passport, driver's license, credit cards. Monthly allowance is set at ten thousand. Anything higher than that will have to be cleared by one of Amanda's boys."_

_He turned to leave and pulled the door open, walking through. _

_After spending nearly a year under Michael's watchful and often affectionate gaze, Nikita suddenly felt a drowning loneliness and a rising urge to stop him from leaving. _

"_Wait!" she called after him. "That's it?"_

_He turned and glanced at her incredulously, eyebrows slightly raised. "What do you mean 'that's it'? Were you expecting more?" _

"_No," she shook her head vehemently, "I meant…what am I supposed to do?" _

"_You can do whatever you want. Just wait for a call from us." _

_With a final reassuring smile, he continued walking down the long hallway to the set of elevators waiting for him. Nikita remained rooted to the ground, shock still slightly coloring her features. She looked around the apartment and suddenly realized how huge and completely _empty_ her home was. A surging abandoned feeling clawed up her chest and she quickly turned to gaze back out her front door at Michael's retreating back. Realizing that he was already at the elevator, she raced after him, her bare feet slapping lightly against the oak floors. _

_The elevator door slid open smoothly and she saw Michael turn back for one last look. His eyes widened as he saw Nikita sprinting rapidly towards him, hair flying back. She skidded to a hasty stop a foot away, nearly bowling him over. His hands automatically shot out protectively to stop her from toppling them both over. _

_She threw her arms around his neck, her gasping breath coming out in pants. The hands that were gripping her waist automatically slid to her back. They stood there in the elevator together, caught in a lovers' embrace. _

_Gradually pulling back, though his hands loathed letting her go, Michael's eyes finally met hers. He was rather startled to see the raging emotions behind her eyes. He opted for humor to dissolve the tension that erupted from their sudden proximity to each other. _

"_What? Find a spider in the bathroom?" _

_She laughed uneasily and cleared her throat, staring down awkwardly at the floor and her bare feet._

"_Michael, I just wanted to say… that…uh…"_

_He grinned to himself, silently laughing at the fact that this was the first time Nikita had ever been at a loss for words. Leaning forward so that their noses were almost touching, he stroked her palm tenderly. _

"_Just what?" _

_She took a deep breath. _

"_Thank you." _

"Thank you."

"For what?"

He looked over towards her and was startled at the sudden sadness behind her large doe eyes. She was staring out the window and absentmindedly toying with a stray lock of hair. He yearned to lean forward and tuck that strand behind her ear.

"For last night. For staying with me." She took a deep breath and began playing with her fingers uncomfortably. "I know that it's stupid and—"

He shook his head immediately and seated himself next to her. "No, I understand. The nightmares. I used to get them too."

He reached forward and gently took her hand. "It'll pass eventually. I _promise_."

She clasped his fingers, taking her other hand and lightly squeezing his. A genuine, sweet smile lit up her face and she leaned into him. A protective urge surged through him, and he slowly unraveled their hands and draped an arm around her shoulders, tugging her to his chest. Snuggling closer to him, she laid her head tenderly against his neck. Folding an arm around his stomach, she smiled against his collarbone.

"Thank you."

**AN: They're going back 'home'! I wonder what awaits them there? Tell me what you think and give me some ideas if you have any! Thank you for reading! **


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Hello lovely people! I want to thank each and every one of you that reviewed, subscribed, and favorited! It means so much to me and I love you all! :) I do want to start replying to all my reviews, but I'm afraid that people would find it annoying or whatever. Soooo, if you don't really care if I blab to you, please let me know! I would love to thank you for reviewing! Also, because I'm a complete noob, can you guys tell me what 'PPMS' means? It was left in a review and I have no idea what it means! :( Anyhow, please read and review! And remember to watch Nikita live tomorrow! **

She hopped into the waiting taxi that was driven by one of Division's many junior agents, smiling rather hesitantly at Michael as he slid in next to her. He gave her a slight nod, before turning out the window and staring blankly out at the highway as it whizzed past them. Frowning, she stared at his hard features, still trying to decipher his unnaturally cold demeanor.

He had become gradually distant the moment they entered the airport, answering her questions with single-worded replies and ignoring her attempts to make casual conversation. Grasping for clues, she faintly remembered watching him speak on the phone to someone in the terminal while she had wandered off to the nearby Russian newsstand. She peeked at him from behind a glossy _Marie_ _Claire_, watching the call progress and noting that his expression was beginning to change from impassive to pure displeasure.

Their flight home was filled with an uncomfortably loud silence. The distance between them had somehow widened considerably and Nikita wondered at how quickly it had happened.

She quietly observed him and tried to make herself as small as possible in her first-class leather seat. His expression was suddenly murderous and she was afraid to even breathe in his presence. Usually, she was always able to coax a reluctant smile from Michael. Even on his worst days he would still give in to her relentless prodding and humor her with a slight quirk of his lips.

"Michael? Do you think we'll ever come back? It's so beautiful in autumn."

"I doubt it," he replied shortly, not even bothering to glance up from the miniscule print displayed on the screen of his phone. He was scrolling through his vast collection of emails from Division, his eyebrows gradually pinching closer and closer. "At least, not any time soon."

She frowned and slumped back slightly in her seat. "Oh, okay."

After the disgruntled flight attendant dropped by to hand them flutes of iced tea and packets of peanuts, Nikita tried again.

"Michael?" she said timidly. "Is something going on?"

He didn't respond. She prodded him in the ribs.

"Michael?"

"_Michael?" _

"_Birkhoff?" Michael said incredulously at his phone, pulling it away slightly to glance at the caller ID. Raising an eyebrow at the words 'blocked number', he pressed the phone back onto his ear. _

"_Whattya want? It's one in the morning," said Michael while pillowing one arm behind his head and kicking his feet back up onto the coffee table. _

"_Dude, you gotta get down here pronto. I need your help." _

"_Why? Percy's probably still at the DC gala and our only active mission is in Texas and Roan's covering it." _

"_No, you don't understand._ I_ need you here. Please. I can't explain right now. Just, come down." _

_Frowning at Birkhoff's frantic, slightly crazed voice, Michael got off the couch and flipped the TV off. "Be there in five." _

_He supposed the Tivo-ed Louisiana Saints game could go another couple of hours without him silently cheering them on, Heineken in hand. Grabbing a blazer from his closet, he left his apartment and began the short drive towards Division. _

_Birkhoff flung himself at Michael the moment the elevator doors slid open. Ignoring Michael's slightly garbled protest; he grabbed him by the wrist and towed him into Operations. Inside Division, all was quiet and serene. All the recruits had strict bedtimes and every other agent not involved in Operation Silver Spur had been placed on inactive status. _

_The only beings that were still working were the furiously whirring computers that were running in Operations. Birkhoff quickly seated himself, tapping a string of code that unlocked each humming system. As Michael rested his hand on Birkhoff's shoulder and peered closer at the glowing monitors, he noticed that they all had pictures or videos of him and Nikita. The air seemed to freeze inside his lungs and his grip on Birkhoff's shoulder tightened. _

"_What is this?" he snarled quietly, rage and fear knitting his brow. _

"_This," Birkhoff gestured throughout the room after shrugging Michael's hand off of him, "…is a new game called Percy spies on his second in command. He's been breathing down my neck while I've been putting together his collection. I think I'm getting a bald spot." _

_Judging from the fact that the fringe of his mane was still falling over his eyes, Michael sincerely doubted it. Birkhoff clicked his way through several files, pulling up various video clips. They were still mainly composed of Michael and Nikita. Every time he and Nikita had been in a room together, that moment had been captured from nearly every possible angle. _

_A video began playing, one of Michael giving Nikita a reassuring hug in her new apartment. She looked visibly shaken and his arms tightened around her, rubbing soothing circles onto her back. Nikita finally pulled back slightly, but their bodies remained close. Her face tipped up to him and it seemed almost obvious to what was going to happen next. Except that Michael didn't reciprocate. After several moments, he broke their loaded stare, clearing his throat and moving towards the kitchen, presumably to make coffee. _

_Because of the glow of the computers, Birkhoff could clearly see Michael's complexion turn a brilliant, shocking pink. _

"_You know, you've been here long enough. You really ought to know where we put the cameras in the agents' apartments. Anyways, Percy thinks you're getting too close with Nikki," Birkhoff gestured, pointing at several more photos of the rather intimate positions that they had been in. "He wants everything. Every look, every touch, every single interaction, all of it. You wouldn't believe how much footage I've had to sift through. When I'm done with it all, he's going to give the lot to Amanda and she'll psychoanalyze the crap out of it." _

_Michael stared at each monitor, not quite comprehending Birkhoff's words. Shock was still fixated on his features but he still looked quite ready to put a bullet between someone's eyes. _

"_Why would he do this? Seems like a lot of trouble to go looking for something that doesn't exist." _

_Birkhoff snorted. "Right. Because the words 'sexual tension' have absolutely no meaning to the both of you. Anyways, it's Percy. Paranoia is his middle name. He's giving into Amanda's suspicions and raising a couple of his own. Everyone knows Ole Pops only gets better with age." _

_Michael dropped into a chair next to Birkhoff, hand pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to block his approaching migraine. He couldn't bear the thought of losing Nikita. Though he had only known her for two short years, she was the only person within Division walls who had managed to make him feel even remotely human again. There was no way in hell that he was going to let Percy take her away from him. The ridiculously musical laugh, the dark silk of her hair, the lithe form of her body lightly pressing against his… _

_It would all be gone. Everything. He groaned and buried his face in his hands. _

_Birkhoff offered him a genuinely concerned look, a strange expression that hovered over his traditional snarky, sarcastic look. He took a deep breath and patted Michael uncertainly on the shoulder. _

"_So... uh…I don't know what's safe, and I'll need you to figure out what I can give to Percy. You know Amanda better than I do; figure out what she'll think is acceptable. Anything that won't be too suspicious. I'll draw up some new footage, make some manips of the two of you and Percy will never know." _

_Michael glanced up, mouth gaping like that of a freshly caught sea bass. "God…I can't… um…I just…thanks Birkhoff." _

"_They don't call me Shadow Walker for no reason," he cracked his knuckles before suddenly turning towards Michael, "But I got one condition. I stick a camera in Nikki's apartment and watch some of that 'sexual tension' undress itself." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. _

_Michael nearly fell out of his chair. Getting up, he smacked the back of Birkhoff's head._

"_No."_

"No," he said tersely. "Nothing's happening."

He refused to look at her, his gaze continuously fixated upon the wispy clouds flying past their window. She flinched slightly. Michael had _never_ spoken to her like that.

_Liar_, she accused silently in her head.

"Anything else?" he said sarcastically, his sour expression becoming even more agitated.

"Hand me that magazine?" she asked, slight nervousness coloring her tone.

He plucked the _Sky_ _Mall_ from the leather seat pocket and handed it to her wordlessly. She took it quietly, noting the fact that their fingers didn't touch, that there was not even a single crackle of electricity igniting between them.

As the hours slowly ticked by, Nikita became increasingly worried and restless, fearful of whatever awaited them on the ground.

Her stomach knotted when a feeling of dread washed over her as she watched Michael's expression steadily darken as they neared Division's borders. She shuddered slightly, her mind immediately leaping to her nightmare. She shuddered, remembering the strange, deadened expression on his face and was frightened to see that it was slowly creeping back. The cool air that lightly wafted from the air conditioning vents suddenly became frigid claws scraping down her skin, raising up rows of goose bumps.

Upon arriving at Division, she and Michael were immediately swept into Operations, where Percy stood imperiously in front of the bullet-proof glass wall, awaiting their arrival. He turned away from the window the moment they entered the room.

"Welcome back."

**So, what did you think? This chapter was really stinking hard to write.. It took me much longer than usual. I have no idea why.. O.o So, if the language was a bit awkward and strange, that's probably why. Leave a comment and tell me anything that you liked/disliked/anything I need to improve on/plot ideas/etc. Thanks so much for reading! **

**xx Lily **


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Hello again to my amazing readers! I'm suffering because of the hiatus (again), so I decided to try writing to give my mind something Nikita-ish to think about :) Anyways, I hope you enjoy! Please read and review! **

Percy smiled coldly and Nikita wished fervently that whatever news he had to offer would not be applied to her. Operations was surprisingly empty, devoid of agents scuttling around or a testy Birkhoff belittling the lower tech boys.

The grin on Percy's face remained for longer than five seconds; a feat that Nikita thought was quite extraordinary and rare.

"The improvisation that you two showed was…" he paused slightly, as though to heighten the effect of his rare praise, "…beyond exceptional."

Starting at the strange words tumbling out of Percy's mouth, she suddenly realized something—he was _congratulating_ them. She allowed herself to soak in Percy's astonishing praise, basking in his rare pride. Glancing around, she hoped that some of the recording equipment was still on to document this exceptional moment.

She heaved a silent sigh of relief. Since Percy was content with the success of their mission, there couldn't possibly be anything wrong. Perhaps Michael's bitter mood could be explained with time. How strange, she had never been this happy to see Percy before.

However, the next words he spoke had her reeling in complete, utter shock.

"Chicago. Long term, at least six months."

She stiffened, the warmth she felt from Percy's astounding praise suddenly dissipated, leaving her chest cold and constricted.

"Michael recommended you specifically for it."

She winced. Well, that certainly explained a lot.

"Chicago…" she breathed, glancing slightly at the ground, shock reverberating through her head and pounding against her temples. Percy was sending her to Chicago, 810 miles away from Division. She knew that she should be happy about the sudden change of scenery, a fresh breath of air compared to the stuffy, clammy dungeons of Division. To not be a ten minute drive from Division? To not have Amanda and Percy breathing down her neck every second of every day?

She should have been bouncing off the walls in utter bliss and singing at the top of her lungs.

But she wasn't. Because she knew that it was _Michael_ who was sending her away. He was pushing her 810 miles away from him. She couldn't fathom a reason for why he suddenly detested her so much that he needed a fourth of the continental United States between them. Maybe she had pushed him too far that night. A dark corner of her mind reared its ugly head, whispering devastating thoughts to her.

_He never really cared for you. It was all a ploy just to keep you docile and useful. And now that he's learned of your true loyalties, you've outlived your value to him and Division. _

She managed to keep a level head throughout the rest of Percy's lecture, smiling at him when necessary and responding correctly to all of his questions, despite the turmoil thrashing against her stomach. Amanda would have been proud.

At the end of his speech, Percy finally offered her a pompous, fatherly smile and marched out; leaving her and Michael standing in the wake of the devastation that he had just dropped at her feet.

Letting the fake smile drop, she stared at Michael, allowing the masked hurt behind her eyes to fully unveil themselves. She was somewhat taken aback by the sudden rush of emotion that appeared on his face, the aloof mask that he had kept on throughout the day suddenly falling away. He looked helpless, standing there with his hands by his sides, fists clenching and unclenching. His mouth was slightly open, as though the words he needed to say were on the tip of his tongue, but he lacked the courage to speak them. Tears pricked her eyes, slightly clouding her vision and the pain in her chest was furiously squashing her ribcage. With one last look at him, she turned around and slowly walked out of Operations.

Her heart shattered when he didn't follow her.

* * *

><p>He waited until Percy was safely tucked away in his office and all other activity had been diverted out of the halls. Then he took off, polished shoes rapping hurriedly after her clicking heels.<p>

"Nikita!" he called, half running, half scrambling towards her retreating form. She was almost at the elevators and seeing that he was getting much too close, hurriedly rearranged her facial expression from devastated to deadened. It really wasn't necessary for him to see how deeply their approaching separation was paining her.

She ignored his call and continued walking, her dark pumps carrying her farther away from him. Grabbing her elbow, he spun her back towards him. She quickly shook him off, brushing his clenched fingers off of her arm. The rejection wounded him slightly, but he recovered hurriedly, backing her into an unsuspecting side corridor.

"Can't this wait, Michael?" she asked acidly. "I have some _packing_ to do."

"It's—"

"I get it; you really don't need to say anything," she snarled, trying to walk around him.

He stopped short. "Y-you do?"

She glared at him. "You honestly think I'm that much of an idiot?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You're really going to make me say it?" she huffed. Seeing Michael's confused expression, she rolled her eyes in aggravation. "I get that I'm not essential; not important enough. If you really wanted to get rid of me, you could've been more subtle."

"N—"

Michael was just about to protest until the reasonable side of his mind caught up to him. Was it better if she believed that she was no longer necessary to him? Percy and Amanda would certainly notice the cold distance forming between them. This way, it would be much easier to protect her, even though he was fairly positive that she definitely didn't want it.

"Percy thinks—", he stopped short, seeing the deadly look forming in her eyes. Taking a deep breath, he kept on. "He needed to know what was happening with you. You weren't going to open up to him or Amanda, and Kelly was unwilling. I'm sorry. It's for the best."

She shook her head and traitorous tears began forming again, beading around the rims of her eyelids. "All this time and I thought…" She bit her lip harshly, stopping the flow of words and nearly drawing blood. Removing her teeth from her lip, she plunged on. "What happened to infinity?" Her voice cracked slightly on the last word.

He cringed slightly, then straightened up and met her gaze steadily, his face and emerald eyes expressionless. "Part of the plan."

She slapped him. Hard. "I knew that you were a killer. I didn't know that you were also a liar."

**AN: Until next time! I'm being bogged down with school work and college acceptances have been coming in, so I might not update that frequently. Please bear with me and remind me! Thank you to everyone that subscribed, favorited, and reviewed, I love reading all of your comments, every word just puts a smile on my face. Let me know what you think! **

**xxLily**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Okay, so this is probably the fifth time that I've reuploaded the story. I have no idea what's going on :( But, hopefully you guys will be able to read this. If not, well then *pulls out hair* Hope you enjoy! Please read and review! Thanks for the encouragement on college stuff! I love you all :)**

"She hates me."

Birkhoff glanced up from the many tablets strewn across his cluttered desk to see Michael striding into his office and collapsing in a chair across from him. He shook his head slightly and resumed tinkering with his many toys.

"She should. _I_ definitely would."

"Yes, but I'm not in—" He paused, thankfully catching the words before they tumbled out.

Birkhoff raised his eyebrows, shooting him a suggestive look. He rather liked this new version of Michael—the kind that actually had feelings. Kudos to Nikki for managing to bring that around. Who knew that Michael had the ability to emote?

"It was for her protection," Michael continued weakly, raising a hand to massage his forehead halfheartedly. "Everyone was asking too many questions. I did this to keep her away from Percy and Amanda."

"And _yourself_ apparently. You could have clued her in. Nikki's smart; she's a better actress than you give her credit for. What happened today was basically you bitch-slapping her into another state. Gotta start thinking ahead, Dingleberry."

Michael groaned, burying his face in his hands. He really was an idiot. Every decision and order that he had issued over the past two years had all been geared towards her benefit. He would have denied it to the hilt, but the evidence was all there, laid out cleanly in front of Birkhoff. He was in love with her. He hadn't just stuck a toe out of line—he had pole-vaulted over it, stark naked and singing the National Anthem.

"So what am I supposed to do then?"

Birkhoff nearly toppled out of his chair in faux shock. "Oh, the brooding Hamlet is asking Horatio for advice? Sweet heaven, thy day hath arrived." Seeing the murderous look on Michael's face and the tightening of his fists, he held up his hands and hastened to form an actual reply. "Okay, okay. Sorry. Damn. Calm down. I'd say that you should just let her go. Relationships in Division are a no-no." Seeing the stunned look on Michael's face, he quickly rerouted his path. "Or you could go to her. Apologize for being such a dick."

Michael shot him a withering look. "You could've called me earlier and told me about Percy."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Now, I need a beeper for when Percy gets his suspicious little panties in a twist? You're lucky I called you when I did."

Michael grumbled to himself and thought back to the call at the airport terminal. It had only been yesterday, but everything in his life since then had suddenly darkened. His personal sun was gone, her beaming face closed off from him, hurt by him and his foolish actions.

He remembered the sweet smile that played around her lips as she perused the various magazines that were on display. She had shot him a roguish wink from across the terminal and he felt his stomach dissolve into goo. He wanted to run towards her, sweep her up in his arms bridal-style, and plant a kiss on her perfect lips. Damn the rules. Shaking his head, he realized that this was the first time he had ever cursed Division. What exactly did that woman do to him?

His phone began ringing, startling him out of his brief fantasy.

"Michael," he said into the phone, while still staring at Nikita.

"It's Shadow Walker." A deep, hoarse voice came through the phone, one that sounded very much _not_ like Birkhoff. "Go secure."

Michael quickly tapped a string of code into his phone, before pressing it back to his ear. "What happened?"

"Percy's on to you." Birkhoff's voice had returned to normal, though with a concerned edge attached to it.

"What?" he snarled quietly, disbelief flashing through his mind. Percy couldn't possibly know. The modified audio and video files had been given to him over a year ago, and they had cleared any of the suspicions he had originally harbored.

"I don't know why. Maybe another one of his stupid loyalty tests. But you're back on the list, my friend, and Amanda's been reviewing the files again."

Michael groaned. He had only spent one marvelous night with Nikita and now it was going to be taken away from him?

Birkhoff sighed quietly. "You gotta end it, man. Or let her in on it. Because Permanda's closing in and they're not happy about anything. Their top two agents developing feelings? Everything's going to hell unless you do something."

"Fine," Michael retorted, a scowl forming on his face. He ended the call and abruptly dialed the number for another, his mind racing to formulate a plan. He listened to the dial tone, his impatient fingers drumming incessantly on the armrest until the person on the other end of the line answered.

"Michael? Didn't think that I'd hear from you so soon. How did Russia go?"

"Just fine, sir. But I'm not calling about that," he took a deep breath, before jumping off the cliff, "I have a recommendation for you."

"For Nikita?" Percy asked.

"Yes," Michael replied, scowling at the fact that Percy had guessed his intentions so quickly. "The improvisation she showed on this mission was remarkable. I believe she's ready for extended cover. At least…six months."

"Oh?" Percy said, slight disbelief coloring his tone. "Well, she would be well suited for city life. Where do you suggest?"

Michael thought quickly; somewhere not too close, but definitely not too far. A big city where it would be easy for her to hide, blend in among the civilians.

"Chicago."

"_Chicago."_

_Nikita nodded nonchalantly, taking a sip of her cappuccino. "Yep, Chicago." _

"_Chicago's your favorite city in the world? Out of all the other options on the entire planet, you choose Chicago?"Michael asked incredulously, one eyebrow cocked. _

_She pouted adorably, her lower lip protruding out ever so slightly. He wanted to lean forward and nip at it. _

"_It's nice," she explained, talking over the hum of the other customers' chatter. "It's big, loud, and busy. An easy atmosphere to get lost in and just…live, I guess." She nestled lower in her chair, tucking her legs up under her and cupping her steaming mug between her long fingers. "What about you?" _

"_Honolulu," he replied, without missing a beat. Suddenly realizing who he was talking to, he mentally slapped himself for being so quick to answer. _

"_Hawaii?" _

"_Does that surprise you?" he asked, his voice slightly muffled from taking a bite out of his sandwich. _

_She threw him a sarcastic look. "Very much. I don't think you'd tan well, Michael. You'd burn. Besides, you coupled with the sun and the surf? Could you imagine yourself having fun? Ew." _

"_I feel insulted," he retorted, rolling his eyes. "It's beautiful there all year round. The weather's nice, people are friendly; it's a pleasant environment to be in." _

"_Pleasant as in boring. What would you do all day? And how would you know what it's like? Did the legendary Michael happen to have a life before Division?" she prodded, unknowingly picking at scars that had yet to fade. _

_His eyebrows immediately knotted together and the green of his eyes hardened slightly. "That's a story for later," he said quickly, immediately shutting himself off from her. _

_Nikita slowly nodded understandingly, then reached forward and patted his hand lightly. "Okay." _

_Glancing around the coffee shop, he took a deep breath and tried to gloss over the awkward moment. "We should just focus on getting rest before all the ops go active tomorrow." _

_She groaned and hurled a pillow at his stomach. "You just _had_ to bring Division back into this. Honestly, why can't we be normal, Michael?" _

"_Why would you like being normal? Could you imagine being roped into a civilian lifestyle? Ew," he mocked, laughing at her mildly offended expression. "And why'd you throw this at me? Do you know how many butts this thing has probably touched?" _

_She chuckled and smiled wistfully. He had no idea how much she would love being 'roped into a civilian lifestyle'. Especially with him. _

_Standing up, she plucked his empty coffee cup from his hand and motioned for him to accompany her to the counter. Placing their cups in front of the bartender, Nikita smiled brightly at him. _

"_Hey Daniel. Refills, please. Black for this one and two cream, one sugar for the other. " _

_He poured a steady stream into both cups and replaced their caps. Nikita fumbled for her wallet, but Daniel stopped her, laying a hand on her delicate wrist. Michael glared at his hand, wishing that he could reach out and snap the man's fingers off. _

"_It's fine. Don't worry about it. On the house." _

_She shook her head vehemently. "No, I can't. You work hard for this place; you shouldn't give out free coffee to strangers." _

"_You're not a stranger, I see you here all the time," he replied, flashing her a wide, toothy grin. "I insist." _

"_No." _

"_Take the coffee or you're banned from this coffee house," he joked, chuckling at her stubbornness. _

"_Fine, you win," she conceded. "I owe you one, Daniel." _

_He inclined his head, grinning at her, before turning away to serve another customer. _

_Michael watched their interaction quietly, observing with sharp eyes and vaguely concealed jealousy. His hand clenched in its jacket pocket when Daniel touched her, knuckles cracking slightly. He thought that Nikita saved her flirty banter exclusively for him, but perhaps he was wrong. A spark of resentment flared within him and he resisted the urge to swoop in and snatch Nikita away from Daniel. _

"_Michael?" Nikita waved her hand impatiently in front of his eyes. "Hello?" _

"_Hmm?" he mumbled, briefly distracted by his envious thoughts. _

"_Here," she said, pushing his coffee cup into his hands. "Let's go, we both have to be back at Division in six hours." _

_She took him by the elbow and towed him outside into the brisk, November air. Leaning casually against his arm, she felt a slight stiffness in his bicep and noticed that he was shifting slightly away from her. She frowned. _

"_Uh…Michael?" she asked, nudging him lightly. _

_He refused to look at her and instead, chose to focus on the hot dog stand across the street, watching the steam rise in swirls. _

"_Michael, what's wrong with you?" she asked impatiently. _

"_Nothing." _

"_Don't lie to me, you're horrible at it. You need acting classes." _

_He declined to answer, but she could feel him sidestepping slightly to the left. She narrowed her eyes and automatically shifted closer to him. A bizarre thought suddenly occurred to her and she laughed out loud, nearly stopping them both in the street. _

"_What?" he said testily. _

"_You're _jealous_!" she giggled._

_He shook his head much too quickly, decisively confirming her suspicions. "No. No, I'm not." _

"_Yes you are!" she maintained. _

_He rolled his eyes. "Just open the damn door." _

_She started slightly, not realizing that they had already reached her apartment building. Scrabbling for her key, she slotted it in and opened up the door, waving a very cross Michael through. _

"_Michael, second in command of a covert unit of the government—jealous of a lowly bartender?"_

"_I'm not jealous." _

"_Keep telling yourself that," she sing-songed. _

_He groaned and closed his eyes momentarily in annoyance. Annoyed that she had figured him out so easily. And annoyed at the fact that he couldn't put up a better front to her accusations. _

_When he opened his eyes, she was standing several inches away, her face much too close. _

"_Oh, Michael," she sighed, reaching up to smooth out his jacket collar. "There's no reason to feel jealous." _

_She opened her apartment's door and stepped inside. Turning around, she faced him, canting one hip against the door frame. Reaching out, she tugged him lightly towards her. "You want to know why I actually chose Chicago?" _

_He nodded mutely, his brain swirling with the sudden onslaught of honeysuckle and an inability to function._

"_That's where we had our first partnered mission together." _

"_No, it was—"_

"_Think harder Michael," she prompted. _

_Chicago. The memories suddenly resurfaced. How she had been trapped on three sides and he had detonated four stun grenades just to get her out. The moment she saw him, she leapt into his arms, clinging to him for dear life. Having blown up the top two floors along with the elevators, he had been forced to descend the tower by scaling down it, with Nikita wrapped firmly around him. Once his feet touched solid ground, she had uncoiled herself from him and dropped lightly to the ground. He regretted allowing himself to let her go so quickly, feeling the warmth of their body heat dissipate between them. When he turned back towards her, she was suddenly leaning in much too closely and her lips pressed lightly against his cheek. _

"_Thank you," she breathed. _

_His cheek had burned for the next week, flaming whenever she walked into the room or whenever she met his gaze. No wonder he had tried to block those memories. _

"_Oh," Michael breathed quietly. "I remember." _

"_Chicago," she smiled dreamily. _

"Chicago?" Percy mused. "Seems fine. I'll have Birkhoff run it by Amanda. Bring her into Operations when your flight lands. Rivers will pick you up from the airport."

"Thank you, sir."

"One more thing, Michael."

"Sir?"

"I always believed that Nikita was very _special_ to you. Wouldn't you want her fighting alongside you on the front lines?"

Michael paused, his heartbeat thundering so loudly that he could have sworn that Percy could hear through the speaker. "She's just another agent. Granted, she is a valuable asset. I wouldn't want to wear her out with constant missions if she is needed for something more important."

Michael could feel his heart crawling up into his throat, thumping incredibly hard against his constricted vocal cords.

"There's a reason why I always trust your judgment. Good thinking Michael. I'll see you and Nikita tomorrow."

Michael breathed a silent sigh of relief. "Thank you, sir."

He stuffed the phone back into his jacket pocket. Nikita still had her nose buried in a magazine. She was smiling unconsciously and she reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Taking an enormous breath of courage, he quietly steeled himself.

Oh, God. She was going to hate him.

**AN: I feel as though the italics part serving as the bridge between flashback past and present is a little strange. But, it's the best that I could come up with.. sigh** Please read and review, let me know what you think! :) Remember to watch Nikita live April 20th!**


	6. Chapter 6

AN: New chappie! Thanks to all the subscribers, favorites, and reviews! Please read and review! Tell me what you think :)

Nikita stormed through the door of her apartment, slamming it behind her. She shoved her purse onto a side table and stripped off her suit jacket, draping it over the couch. Striding towards the window, she pressed a forehead to the cold glass, trying to cool her overheated skin. Blood was pounding through her body, thundering in her temples. The bright lights of the city twinkled back at her and she cursed the moon for being so damn full and cheery.

She could still hear Amanda's voice ringing in her mind, smug and strangely pleased, complimenting her on the obvious distance between her and Michael. The debriefing had gone fairly well, though Nikita detested the constant reminders of the intimacy that she and Michael had shared back in Russia. With Amanda's constant prodding for details, she was forced to think back and relive their flirty banter, cherished secrets, and the kiss.

_Oh_, the kiss. She could still feel the feverish press of skin against skin, the clash of lips and tongues, and the feeling of being overpowered by Michael—his hard, muscled chest pressing desperately against hers, not unlike those heated sparring sessions they often shared. Clinging frantically to the cold reality that she now knew, the apathetic mask on her face remained stony and unchanged. Thankfully, it appeared as though Amanda suspected nothing of the events that had transpired in Russia. As far as she knew, the mission had only involved role reversal—Michael as the cheese and Nikita as the mousetrap. But then again, who actually knew what was hiding behind those icy blue eyes and matte lipstick?

Pushing the window open, she felt the chilly breeze gust into her apartment, ruffling her hair and soothing her heated skin. She tucked her chin onto the window sill and looked out over the New York skyline, already feeling a twinge of wistful longing for the city. That feeling was soon replaced when her thoughts—once again—ventured upon Michael.

Even after a period of several days, his rejection still stung and she desperately wanted to hurl something at the wall. What a lie this had all been. She had only started noticing Michael's strange favoritism towards her after she heard the fellow recruits whispering about it during meal times. Initially, she had tried to brush it off, but it continued to haunt her day after day. How he always singled her out to spar with him or how she was the first out of her batch of recruits that had been activated first. Was everything a lie? The intimate coffee house chats or the star gazing on her roof? All this just to fulfill Percy's orders? All lies, all deception, all the time. She shouldn't have found it so surprising. Michael _was_ Division, after all.

It had been so many years and she still had not found a single person that would never give up on her. She had initially believed that he would be the one constant in her life. He had been her anchor during those early, tumultuous days as a recruit, her shoulder to cry on when grueling missions and a vindictive Amanda took a particularly large toll. Now, what did she have? She was alone once again, trapped in the prison that was soon to be the city of Chicago.

Glancing around, she growled at her apartment. Everything in it reminded her of him. How she had forced him to buy her a second vase after she had chucked the first one at his head when he had barged into her apartment while she was naked in the bathroom. Or how he had originally turned up his nose to her vegan cooking, but later gave in after she plied him with enormous amounts of alcohol.

Her hands clenched and she shook her head angrily, trying to rattle her treacherous thoughts out of her brain. She really needed to hit something. Tugging her blouse and pencil skirt off, she changed into leggings and a sports bra, before slipping on a pair of Genesis sparring gloves. She flounced out of her apartment and shouldered her training bag, descending the stairs and passing through the lobby to her building's gym. She swiped her key, and then proceeded to the heaviest punching bag in the room.

The bag was a musty grey color and unfortunately—for the bag—reminded her of Percy and his stuffy fashion sense. She laughed quietly to herself and pictured his face plastered onto the scratchy rubber surface.

Her first punch landed squarely on his nose and she giggled at the imaginary blood pouring out of it while he was doubled up in pain. She could already feel the stress and tension flowing out of her muscles. Smiling, she struck him again and again, no doubt giving him several black eyes.

After an hour of intense punches and flying kicks, Nikita slumped against the wall, panting for breath. Slipping off her gloves, she rubbed her bruised and chafed knuckles in satisfaction. Clambering back up the stairs to her apartment, she pulled her door open and turned on her power shower. Stripping out of her sweat encrusted outfit, she scrutinized the bruises forming on her forearms and shins. She felt like laughing at the women who needed retail therapy. Only an hour of pummeling an inanimate object and she was already feeling better.

She hopped into the shower; the searing hot water pounded against her back and gushed over her sore muscles, massaging each tendon and ligament. She could feel knot after knot in her back unraveling, leaving behind loose, warm flesh. Sighing softly, she leaned her head against the shower's glass door, allowing the water to caress her into oblivion.

AN: Yeah.. sorry that this was mostly a filler chapter .. Other things are coming soon! Did anyone else think Wrath was the most amazing episode ever? I don't normally cry, but I bawled like a baby after the episode ended. Oh, the monumental unfairness of it all isthat Maggie Q will never win an Emmy for that amazing performance .. *sigh* anyways, review! Love you all!

xxLily


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Haven't posted in a while, sorry! Finals and AP Tests have been killing me. :( Anyhow, please read and review! Hope you enjoy! **

Michael sat inside the Tea Lounge, nursing his large cup of black coffee. Normally, there was a vibrant, gorgeous woman sitting across from him, complete with bright chocolate eyes and a similar cup clutched with slender fingers. He and Nikita normally took coffee runs together around midnight in order to pull them through the late nights that they were both forced to work through at Division. Upon discovering Tea Lounge, Nikita had begged Michael to allow them to stay longer and enjoy the bluesy entertainment and assortment of sandwiches that the establishment provided. This quickly became a ritual between the two and Michael was sure to find Nikita nestled in a green velvet armchair, coffee cup in hand, at twelve every Wednesday night.

Tonight, however, this was sadly not the case. The antique clock on the wall was ticking towards one and she still had not arrived yet. The empty space across him was paining him; even the chair itself seemed depressed that there was no Nikita present to fill it. Various other couples were curled up on couches, cuddled together and whispering sweet little nothings to each other, reminding him that he had ruined the only good thing that had happened to him inside the concrete walls of Division.

The entire week without her had been utter and complete hell. Every time he heard the unmistakable click of heels in Operations he would turn, only to be greeted by every other female agent in Division and a jagged stab of disappointment. A headache constantly pounded between his ears and he found himself pinching the bridge of his nose incessantly. He half-expected her to appear and slip a cheekily sarcastic comment into his ear as he monitored recruit sparring sessions and their trajectory exercises. Birkhoff shot him meaningful glances from his post on his well-padded chair in Operations, but Michael ignored them all, too absorbed with the dull ache thudding in his chest.

He was debriefing Steven on Operation Red Castle when she had finally appeared. A flash of dark hair had passed by the tiny, circular window and Michael paused, his knuckles tightening on the tablet in his hands and a chill ghosting up his neck. He hurriedly finished grilling Steven about the mission's successes and failures, then flung open the door and raced for Operations. Once she spotted him, she swiftly flitted past him, more ghost than human. Michael made a swipe for her wrist, but missed as her fingers deftly slipped through his clammy grasp. Sliding into the elevator, she turned and stared at him, her gaze cold and empty. Glancing up, he saw Amanda's glacial stare focused on his still clenched fist. She quirked a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him, then marched away imperiously, her heels rapping ominously.

Michael grumbled into his coffee, then downed the remaining lukewarm liquid in his cup and stood up, stretching slightly. Amanda's gaze had troubled him slightly, but definitely not enough to push Nikita out of his mind. Walking up to the counter, he ordered another cup and pulled out his wallet to pay.

"Your girl not here today?" the bartender behind the counter asked, handing Michael his refilled, steaming cup of coffee.

"She's not—" Michael began, then paused, rubbing the cup between his hands uncomfortably. "She…uh… couldn't make it today."

The man nodded understandingly. "Right. Sorry 'bout that."

"It's fine…er…" Michael responded, suddenly forgetting the bartender's name. Nikita' voice immediately began to echo in his head and he quickly blurted out, "…Daniel."

He pushed the door of the coffee shop open and walked out into the brisk, night air. His feet carried him, while his mind drifted away to happier places. The swing of dark hair coupled with lightning fast fists. Musical laughter and glossy lashes.

Sometime later, his legs suddenly stopped moving and he glanced around in confusion. Looking up, he uttered a short, harsh laugh.

Of course. Nikita's apartment rose up above him; the window that he knew was hers still open and warmly lit despite the late hour. He would have to remind her to close it at night, lest someone try and take a peek inside. Someone like him.

He entered the building and took the elevator to her floor, his insides knotting horribly. Reaching out one fist, he knocked on her door three times and stepped back, nervousness curling up inside his abdomen. How would she respond? Slam the door in his face? A slap maybe? Perhaps she'd pull him towards her and kiss him for protecting her from their crafty masters at Division. He snorted, ruling that one out the moment it popped into his mind.

There was no answer. He knocked again, concern knitting his brow. Bending his head forward, he listened for movement inside the apartment, but heard none. Tugging a credit card from his pocket, Michael quickly slid it into the crack between the door and its frame, sliding it open. The door swung open noiselessly and he slipped inside, closing it quietly behind him.

Once inside the apartment, he glanced around the slightly disorderly living room and kitchen before suddenly hearing it. Nikita's melodious voice echoed slightly throughout the room, a rich velvety noise that had Michael's stomach dissolving into liquid. He tiptoed forward, head inclined towards Nikita's singing. Suddenly hearing the ceaseless thrum of water against tiles, he quietly headed back towards the living room, a blush slightly reddening his cheeks. Warmth rushed up his neck and into his cheeks at the thought of Nikita showering. Water cascading down her body, droplets flowing across her collarbones and down…

He shook himself. It didn't matter how badly he wanted her. She, no doubt, did not feel the same way.

Pulling off the cup holder on his coffee cup, he nabbed a pen from her counter and quickly scribbled a message on it. He placed it on her messy dining room table, propped between an open cereal box and several towers of stacked take-out containers.

The pound of water, along with her voice, suddenly disappeared, leaving the apartment unusually silent, despite the open window and the blare of taxi horns below.

Realizing that she would notice his presence soon, he glanced around quickly, wondering if he would ever be in here with her again. He hurriedly let himself out and hailed a taxi. Glancing up for one last look, he was just in time to see the glow from her window disappear.

**AN: A bit short and not as good as I thought it would be .. What did you think? :) Also, much love to Miami Blackheart for her amazing words of encouragement! Have you guys read her fic Marbles? If not, go go go! Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter!**


End file.
